


by the grace of the fire and the flames

by amosanguis



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Canon Era, Canonical Character Death, Character Study, Friends With Benefits, M/M, Magic Revealed, Percival-centric, title from a song
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-26
Updated: 2018-05-26
Packaged: 2019-05-14 05:06:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14763155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amosanguis/pseuds/amosanguis
Summary: Percival’s through half-a-barrel of mead when he meets Merlin’stired, so very tiredeyes from across the room.





	by the grace of the fire and the flames

**Author's Note:**

> \--Title from "Believer" by Imagine Dragons.  
> \--The last three seasons are kinda a blur, so if there's something in here that's out of place, I'm sorry. I'm working on my re-watch now, I promise.  
> \--This has only been given a cursory edit, please forgive any mistakes.

-z-

 

Percival knew.

He’d known since the first time he’d seen Merlin. The boy himself wasn’t much to look at – but some of Percival’s fiercest opponents never were. It was all about what was in the eyes. And Merlin’s eyes were _tired_.

 

-

 

They defeat Morgana and save the kingdom and somewhere along the way, they lose Lancelot and hundreds more in one magical catastrophe after the next.

Percival’s through half-a-barrel of mead when he meets Merlin’s _tired, so very tired_ eyes from across the room.

Some would say that it just went downhill from there, Percival thinks just the opposite, even as he traces Merlin’s myriad of scars – a large burn at the center of his chest, cuts along his forearms, and long-healed fang marks at his thigh.

They talk about Arthur and the future, about Lancelot and the past, and about everything in-between. Then Merlin is stretching himself taut against Percival and they don’t talk about anything else until the sun peeks over the horizon, its light weakened by the smoke from the still burning fires.

 

-

 

With magic being far more accepted by the general populace outside of Camelot, Percival tries to press Merlin about why he stays where he’s so unwelcome. Merlin just smiles softly and starts chuckling about _coins_ and _destiny_.

Percival rolls his eyes and, together, they laugh.

What they have – it’s not love. It wasn’t something so simple as that. It was deeper. It was companionship and friendship; it was them doing what they could to ease the burdens they each silently carried.

For Merlin, Percival knew, it was simply about being open, about having someone – _finally_ – who knew his secrets. Around Percival, Merlin didn’t have to hide, didn’t have to act or bow his head.

For Percival, Merlin was a reminder of what came before the knighthood. Merlin was an anchor and he kept Percival humble.

 

 

-

 

Percival starts accompanying Merlin on his trips through the countryside to gather herbs, and they spend the day swapping facts about every weed and berry they come across. It wasn’t so long ago that Percival himself had to know things he could live off of and which he could use to accelerate the healing of a bruise or cut from a sword. Then, when the sun settles and it’s just them and the fire, they tangle themselves together until there’s nothing between them but sweat and whispered words of adoration.

Percival’s favorite part of these trips is when they’re lying together, Merlin’s head on his chest and his arm outstretched to the fire – making the flames twist into jousting knights or angry dragons or, on one special occasion, a griffin.

(“One was terrorizing the kingdom,” Merlin explains, his fingers curling and making the griffin buck and dance and shake its head. “Lancelot found me trying to destroy it with my magic – he didn’t hesitate. He just jumped in and helped.”

Percival smirks and sighs, missing his old friend terribly in that moment. “That sound exactly like him,” he says, chuckling and trying to stave off the sudden melancholy. He runs his hand down Merlin’s back, says, “Hey, do a rabbit next.”

Merlin laughs and, with a twitch of his fingers, the griffin twists in on itself before straightening back out into the form of a long-eared, long-legged rabbit dashing up into the sky, riding the smoke.)

In the mornings after these trips, when Merlin finally leaves him in the courtyard to tend to their king, Merlin always looks less _tired_ – and Percival takes a certain pride in that.

 

-z-

 

End.


End file.
